A gay sex story: Consoling the Widowed Neighbor
“You sure I can’t get you boys anything before I turn in?” Melody Parker asked us as she prepared to go upstairs, and after her husband Paul told her we were fine she smiled and gave her husband a kiss before taking a couple of steps around the bar to give me a peck on the cheek as well.
“Goodnight Melody,” I called out to her back as she headed upstairs, my eyes following her chunky butt as she left us men alone.
Melody wasn’t really my type, as I’ve usually gravitated towards more full-figured women like my late wife, although my next door neighbor’s pear-shaped body was pleasant enough to the eye even if her facial features were stereotypical of the librarian she was.
The kiss though was something new. Since my wife passed away the year before the two of them had almost adopted me, inviting me over for cookouts and pool parties, and although at 60 I was about as old as the two of them combined, I was glad for the distraction and the time fillers.
The kiss was the second one Melody had ever given me, with the first being after their pool party, and while I thought the kiss from Melody was probably from a couple extra cocktails, I didn’t shove her away.
Melody’s husband Paul was another story all together. Paul was one I had figured out quite a while ago, and nothing that happened since then had changed my mind. Paul was interested in me but was obviously too timid to make the first move.
Like his wife, Paul seemed very straight-laced and they both came off as nerd-ish bookworms, but we all know that sometimes you can’t tell a book by the cover. I wasn’t sure that Paul was gay, but I had little doubt that Paul was not adverse to the affections of his own gender.
That didn’t bother me a bit, and the reason for that was I had enjoyed sex with men all my life, and many of them were gentleman who I shared with my dear wife. We were a great couple and part of that was the fact that I knew she liked young men, and Ella knew that I did too.
Whether the two of us would have ever dragged Paul into our bed – and his wife as well – was uncertain but my wife’s illness and too-soon passing eliminated that possibility from the start, so they thought of me as the kindly old gentleman next door whose heart was pure and was still grieving. They were right about the grieving part but if they knew what was in my mind they would know that my heart was far from pure and while I’m well-mannered and respectful, I’m no gentleman.
With Melody upstairs it was just us guys, and as I accepted Paul’s offer of another bottle of Miller High Life, I sensed that the young man was dying to say something but lacked the nerve. Paul kept pushing his glasses back up his nose, and I don’t know whether he was intimidated by my age or height, since I was a head taller than Paul even though we were both slender.
We made some small talk, and then Paul brought up the pool party he had last week. After clearing his throat a few times he casually mentioned that he was glad I had a good time and wished that they had more female friends who were unattached so they could introduce me to them.
“You mean some women who are unattached and old, right Paul?” I chided while winking at the man behind the bar who even though he was 30 barely looked old enough to drink, looking a bit like a young Rick Moranis.
“No – heck no Steve,” Paul stammered as he came around his bar to join me at a stool. “You’re a handsome man and you look much younger than your age – act it too – and you look darn good in a bathing suit as well. That wasn’t me saying that of course. Melody said that to me that night after the party broke up.”
“I think she was just being kind,” I said although I had felt her eyes on me that day, but I think that what Paul was crediting to his wife were also things that went through his mind.
“No, she’s very fond of you. I think she’s a fan of yours, and not just because of your writings either,” Paul added, although my literary career was modest at best, but I nodded thanks while pretty much forcing Paul to keep talking.
“That bathing suit of yours,” Paul said, shaking his head, and as he struggled for words I noticed that his hands were trembling as they tapped the frosty bottle.
“Oh that old thing,” I said of the aged olive green trunks which were almost as old as Paul. “I’m sure it’s way out of style, but I haven’t done much swimming in recent years.”
“No – It wasn’t that,” Paul blurted out as sweat beaded up on his forehead and he tried to think of what to say. “I mean it was – you know – when it was wet you could really see – I mean not actually see – but you could see the outline of your – you know?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that,” I said, which was bullshit.
“No, I mean it wasn’t your fault. The trunks were really baggy,” Paul explained. “But Melody noticed and…”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I’ll apologize to the poor girl because that wasn’t my intention to embarrass her or myself for that matter,” I said, and while it was true that the loose fitting trunks weren’t supposed to be revealing, it couldn’t be helped.
“No, she wasn’t embarrassed,” Paul assured me as sweat rolled down the sides of his face, not an easy task because his basement was cool, and then he let out a nervous laugh while continuing. “As a matter-of-fact, when we got to bed and we started talking about you, she got kind of – well, she was like an animal. She’s not usually like that.”
“Oh?” I said as I swiveled in the stool to face my neighbor, whose face was getting red.
“Yeah,” Paul said, and after taking a deep breath added, “She’s not used to anything like that, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not quite sure,” I said, although I clearly did know what he was talking about, but I enjoyed watching him squirm while trying to say everything but what he felt.
“You know. I mean I’m not very – you know,” Paul stammered as he seemed to be trying to break the world’s record for the most times saying you know in one night. “I mean you’re obviously very well endowed.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied.
“Yeah. Melody, she said that you look like you could be in one of those dirty movies.”
“Now what would you two know about dirty movies?” I kidded, adding, “What would Father O’Reilly say?”
“Oh you wouldn’t tell…” Paul said in a panic before he saw I was playing around. “No, we have a VHS tape player and sometimes I go up to Schenectady to Adult World and rent a couple of movies.”
“All the way to Schenectady from here?” I said of the 15 mile trip from our neighborhood of Bethlehem just outside of Albany.
“Don’t want to rent them around here, in case anybody saw me,” Paul explained. “Don’t tell Melody I told you about this.”
“I won’t, but I am surprised that Melody would watch movies of that nature, seeing as she’s so prim and proper,” I said.
“Oh, she has her moments,” Paul said and then told me that I hoped I didn’t think they weren’t sex fiends or anything for watching pornography.
“On the contrary, I think it’s a healthy thing for a couple to do. Ella and I used to watch them too, although me started watching them on our Beta player.”